A string, a sound to touch the heart;
a voice, a word that plays like a harp
to sensibilities heightened, sharp,
on edge even in the dawn-lit world.
With a whirl, a rush to catch-up with
the Busy, it’s one sip, two sip, and then
a whole pot of coffee downed
to be “woke” to Century 21.
Click-click; tap-tap – before a smile
come platitudes of professional guile.
And it’s silence in the cacophony.
Spotlight seeming to burn down, accusing,
on the individual not charged enough
to keep up with the senseless, the noisy
and a breath to calm, but
questions come, swooping like night-time
horrors, darker owls: Who-who?
Who are you?
They no longer know.